


wherever the heart takes us

by chasingjupiter



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Prince Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi, Strangers to Lovers, domestic magic!!, joshua hong goat man, woozi's moving cottage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:48:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27112858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingjupiter/pseuds/chasingjupiter
Summary: “It’s not so much traveling as it is incessant journeying. Let’s just say that when I say I follow my heart, I physically do.”“What do you mean?”Jihoon leans on the bridge’s side, stone worn smooth by fingers seeking safety. “My house… It doesn’t really like to stay still, either.” he explains cryptically.Soonyoung cocks his head. “Huh?”(Soonyoung offers to be Jihoon's tour guide for the day. Literally, just the day. As much as Jihoon finds himself falling for the village and a certain villager, before the sun comes up tomorrow morning, he'll be gone.)
Relationships: Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Lee Jihoon | Woozi
Comments: 21
Kudos: 91





	wherever the heart takes us

Tucked away in a valley, overhung by an incessant fog, Soonyoung’s village bustles. Year-round, the weather is cool and wet, and the very cobblestones are slick to the step. Surrounded by mountains, the village is mostly secluded from society, a fact of life that most villagers take pleasure in. On Sundays, the families that manage farms south of the valley tread through the mountain pass and down into the village to set up market, and the villagers all flock to peruse the produce for the week. It is on such a Sunday that an eclectic cottage appears, perched high up over the waterfall, its mismatched windows gazing upon the village’s lively motions.

Just before sunrise, the cottage materializes, its only inhabitant softly snoring away in the single room. The fireplace flickers with a magical fire sustained by an unseen fuel, and as the sky warms to a gentle green-blue the young man wakes from his slumber. He yawns and considers sleeping the day away before glancing out the window and realizing his surroundings have changed. Unperturbed, he sits up slowly and rubs his eyes, casting a wistful look at his pillow. Alas, he has already resolved to get up and explore, so he slips out of bed, creaky wood floor cold under his toes, and moves to wash up. As he passes the fireplace, the mysterious fire flares up and the room is washed in a pleasant heat.

He sets out hungry and dressed for the morning chill. In the time that he had been taming his bedhead and lacing up his boots, the sun had tiptoed into the sky, and as he traverses down an out-of-use path to the village, he sings lightly under his breath. It is a cheerful tune with grim lyrics, one he’s been able to warble before he’d learned to walk.

The path leads him to a stone shrine with a boy knelt before it, and he hesitates to make his presence known. Before he decides, though, the boy looks up, alarmed, and jumps to his feet. He voices, “Who are you?”

“I’m Jihoon,” he answers. “And you?”

“S-Soonyoung,” Soonyoung stammers. He dusts off his knees self-consciously; his shorts are rather remarkable in this temperature. “I’ve never seen you before. Are you passing through?”

Jihoon shrugs. “More or less.”

“Not planning to stay?”

“Not unless I need to.”

Soonyoung hums. “Today everyone’s out and about because it’s Sunday,” he explains, glancing at the roofs of the village down below. “Sunday is market day.”

Jihoon looks at the shrine curiously. “What were you praying for?”

The other stiffens. “That’s a pretty personal question,” he says cautiously, not offended but wary.

“My apologies,” Jihoon offers. “If you don’t want to answer, don’t answer. But I am still rather intrigued.”

Softening, Soonyoung lets out a sigh. “Nah,” he says. “I was just praying for normal stuff. Good health for my family, well, just my father, I guess. Good harvests for the farmers. Happiness for the village. All that stuff.”

“Nothing for yourself?” Jihoon asks pointedly.

He shakes his head. “Don’t wanna ask the gods for too much, yeah?”

Jihoon frowns. “Can anyone pray here?”

“Well, yes, I suppose,” Soonyoung says, a little confused. “The gods can’t discriminate, can they?”

“Okay.” Jihoon kneels down and clasps his hands like Soonyoung had been doing earlier, the top of his head facing the shrine and his lips mouthing silent prayers. Soonyoung shifts uneasily behind him, wondering if he should leave, when Jihoon stands up. He’s clearly waiting for Soonyoung to ask, so he does.

“What did you pray for, then?”

“You.” Jihoon says bluntly.

Soonyoung backs away, flushing. “What? Me?”

“For your health and happiness. It just seems unfair that the entire village gets your prayers and you don’t.”

“W-Well, shouldn’t I pray for yours too?” Soonyoung asks, embarrassed. “Or do you have someone else praying for you?”

Jihoon brushes the dirt off his pants. “I think I’ll be fine.”

  
  


The sun swims through the heavy clouds as Jihoon walks through the market. Though the village seemed small from his first surveying, he can’t quite keep track of all the people he’s met or seen. There had been several children bounding along the stalls, brandishing skewers of candied fruit, and elders who, despite their obvious age, walked proudly and strongly in the middle of the street. Lanterns lined the way, dispersing the thick fog and illuminating the faces of loitering teenagers, who clustered in whispering huddles under the many trees.

Soonyoung had bid him a hurried goodbye, citing his father’s strict adherence to schedules as he dashed back to the village, and as he’s ambling aimlessly Jihoon wonders if he’ll run into the other. 

A pang of hunger sends him to a stall advertising an impressive range of fruits and vegetables. He picks out a few carrots and apples to placate his stomach, fishing out twelve shiny coins from the pouch at his waist and smiling politely at the boy behind the display.

“Hey, are you new? I haven’t seen you around here before,” he says brightly, counting and tucking away the coins with practiced ease.

Jihoon nods. “Not staying, just passing through,” he explains.

“Ah, for the day? What’s your name? I’m Seungkwan.” Seungkwan introduces himself with a pretty smile and a finger pointed to himself.

“Jihoon,” he says. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be off by tonight, by the way things have been going.” He rubs his apple with his sweater and takes a hearty bite. It’s sweet and dripping with moisture.

“Nice to meet you,” Seungkwan says. “Oh, do you have any questions about our village? If you ever have time to return, you know, you’re always welcome to stay for longer.” When Jihoon doesn’t answer immediately, Seungkwan continues, “Actually, I’m just visiting, too. An extended visit of sorts, to my aunt. But I love it here, really. Everyone’s great.”

“That’s cool,” Jihoon comments. “Do you have any suggestions for places to check out? I mean, I’m here for a full day.”

“Oh, I’d love to give you a tour,” Seungkwan gushes, before checking himself and letting his shoulders drop in disappointment. “But I can’t today. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Jihoon assures him. 

Seungkwan sulks with his lips pouted until a flash of red catches his attention and he brightens. Jihoon turns to follow his eager gaze as Seungkwan calls out the passing glimpse of red. “Soonie! Hey! Don’t pretend you can’t hear me! I saw you looking! Come here, it’s important!”

Soonyoung looks embarrassed but complies. “You’re not supposed to just summon me at your will, I have a job,” he reproves good-naturedly.

“Well, don’t check people out while you’re on the job, then,” Seungkwan retorts back. “Anyway, this is Jihoon. He’s visiting.”

“We’ve met,” Jihoon says.

Seungkwan’s eyes widen and he shields his gaping mouth with his hand. “No way,” he gasps. “You should’ve said so! Well, that’s perfect, then. Soonie, you should show Jihoon around! You of all people should be up to it.”

“Why, because I’m too nice to you and do whatever you ask of me?” Soonyoung says sarcastically.

Seungkwan playfully makes a face. “No, because you’re the _prince_ of the village and it is your royal duty to acquaint newcomers with the village.”

Soonyoung’s eyes nervously flick to Jihoon, whose interest is piqued with Seungkwan’s last remark. “Prince?” he inquires, curious.

“I’m not a prince,” Soonyoung denies, just as Seungkwan chirps, “Yes, our beloved _prince._ ”

The so-called prince flushes and hides his face behind his hands, making quiet noises of despair as Seungkwan passionately explains. “Soonie gets all mortified when he’s called Prince around strangers but you should see him on a normal day, flouncing around shamelessly. And half of the people here just encourage it. They think it’s cute.” The face Seungkwan makes clearly indicates he thinks otherwise. “But yeah. The nickname came about because Soonie’s father is the head of the village.”

Jihoon laughs. “Cute.”

“No, c’mon, not you too,” Seungkwan whines, clutching Jihoon’s shoulder.

“Well, Prince,” Jihoon says, making sure he emphasizes the title enough to make Soonyoung cower in a fervent red blush, “Will you show me around? Give me a private tour, hm?”  
Soonyoung fans himself with his hand. “Well, sure, if you’re insisting,” he says airily. “I suppose I can make the time.”

Seungkwan fake-gags.

  
  


Soonyoung’s robes swish breezily as they walk through the street. The thick fabric glitters with a sheen reminiscent of opal, yet they ride lightly on Soonyoung’s shoulders. The luminous attire complements his crimson inner tunic, beige trousers, and black boots. It hangs at his ankles but flows with his gait.

Maybe it’s the robes or the intricate earring dangling from one of Soonyoung’s ears that draws the whispers of passing villagers. Maybe Soonyoung’s handsome but pretty side profile. Or, more likely, Jihoon, who sorely stands out from the village, let alone the son of the village head. He shudders at the thought but treks on beside Soonyoung, feeling uncomfortably aware of eyes following his every movement.

“This is Joshua’s house,” Soonyoung points out to their left. “Let’s go say hi.” He steps off the general street to completely avoid the front door and instead skips around to the back, to Jihoon’s surprise. He stops in front of a small pen and turns to beam at Jihoon. “It’s Joshua’s goats!”

Sure enough, when Jihoon looks into the pen, there are three tall balls of grayish-white hair that must be the goats. They turn to watch Soonyoung bend down and pluck a rose from bushes lining the side of the house, and mill over to the fence to bid for the rose. Soonyoung giggles as they nudge at his hand, and he bestows the rose to the most docile. 

“They only eat roses,” he says, happily watching the goats return to their favored spots in the grass. “Usually Joshua brings them up the mountain to his rose garden so they can graze, but it’s market day.”

“Is it a dietary choice or their nature?” he asks, wondering how on earth roses could sustain goats.

Soonyoung grins. “We don’t know. They simply refuse to eat anything else. They know themselves better than we do.”

“It must be nice, being a goat,” Jihoon says wistfully. 

“It must be nice being Joshua’s goat,” Soonyoung corrects. “It’s like being treated like royalty. They get milked sometimes but Joshua keeps them because he likes goats. Oh! And they sing, sometimes.”

“It must be nice, being a goat owned by Joshua,” Jihoon echos wistfully.

As if on cue, a goat bleats shrilly, and all three stand up and mosey over to the corner of the pen. “Joshua’s coming on over,” Soonyoung informs him. “They can sense it when he’s near.”

“Oh,” Jihoon says. He’s not sure why he’s so taken aback, considering his own mystical lifestyle, but he certainly didn’t expect all-powerful goats when he woke up this morning.

Upon glimpsing a broad-shouldered figure approaching, Soonyoung calls out, “Joshua!”

Joshua waves as best as he can with his arms full of pots. “Hey, good afternoon! Who’s that with you?”

“This is Jihoon, a traveller,” Soonyoung introduces. Jihoon waves. “We were admiring your goats.”

Joshua walks up to the pen, dumps his pots on the ground, and shakes hands with Jihoon, his grip firm and warm. “Nice to meet you, Jihoon,” he greets. “I’m Joshua.”

“Likewise,” he returns. “I like your goats.”

“Thanks!” Joshua smiles cheerfully, and Jihoon more fiercely wishes to be a goat owned by Joshua. He picks up his pots and lets himself into the house, beckoning in the two visitors with a flick of his head. Soonyoung follows Joshua and Jihoon follows Soonyoung, and soon enough they’re seated at a round dining table, waiting for Joshua to finish whatever he’s doing with his pots.

“Got my pots back from Jeonghan,” Joshua clarifies, putting them away into various cupboards. “What a bastard. He borrowed them for three months. He said he would only need them for a week!”

“Ah, is that what he used to brew the potion?” asks Soonyoung.

Joshua shrugs. “I guess. I don’t care what he brews as long as he returns my crap on time. I had to hold off on making soup for three whole months. But now I finally can! Are you perhaps hungry for some soup?”

“Us?” Soonyoung looks at Jihoon, who shrugs. He’s not particularly hungry, but he wouldn’t mind staying. In fact, he thinks he likes it here in Joshua’s house, where there is sunlight streaming in from the thrown-open windows, and a quiet melody weaving into the air, presumably from the goat pen. “I think we’ll pass this time. I’ve been giving Jihoon a tour of the village, you see.”

“Oh, is that so?” Joshua asks, distracted as he gazes lovingly out the window at the goats.

“Yeah, Jihoon travels a lot. Isn’t that cool? He said he’ll show me some of the stuff he’s collected if we have time. I’m really excited. I wish I could travel everywhere, too.” The bubbly rambling reminds Jihoon of a child recounting his day at school. It’s endearing, he finds.

“Have you ever travelled away from here?”

Soonyoung sighs. “No. I haven’t had the chance to.”

Jihoon gapes. “Not even just beyond the mountains? Not on a vacation? Not out of curiosity?”

“Well, if I could, I would,” he bristles.

“What’s stopping you?”

Soonyoung sighs again. “Do you really want to know?” He looks petulant, like he’s been asked before but never genuinely. 

Jihoon responds, “Well, yeah. Why would I ask if I don’t care?”

“You’ll find that lots of people do that,” Soonyoung informs him. “It’s polite, I guess.”

“Seems pretty rude if you can tell,” Jihoon figures. “Anyway, yeah, I want to know. Unless you don’t want to share, that’s fine too.”

“It’s my father, of course,” he explains, expression glum. “I’m supposed to stay here and take over when he’s unable to lead. It’s not a bad gig, I suppose, but there must be better things to do while I’m still young and spry.” He smiles wryly. “You must think I’m very spoiled.”

“Not at all,” Jihoon counters. “If I were you, I might feel that way too. Besides, you probably have plenty of things you have do, even now, while you’re young. Everyone has that kind of burden.”

“What’s yours?” he asks, curious.

Jihoon’s eyes widen slightly in surprise. “Mine?” He thinks. He has a burden in mind: it has to do with his home. His home, which teleports every night without fail, to a new location, and never a familiar one. It’s the cause of many a lost friendship, and though it’s nice to be exploring everyday, he wishes he could stay cultivate _something._ His parents were dead, he an only child. “I get lonely, sometimes,” he simply says, finally. 

Soonyoung hums. “That makes sense.”

“Does it?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Travelling sounds kind of lonely. I mean, lots of people travel for fun and for short bouts. But long-term travellers, it sounds like they’re travelling not just to go to places but also to leave the old ones. Not everything can be picked up and put in a rucksack.” When Jihoon doesn’t reply immediately, lost in thought, Soonyoung adds, embarrassed, “But what do I know, I’ve never even left home.”

“No, you’re right, sorry,” Jihoon says, quickly looking down at his hands. “You’re exactly right. You… get it.”

Sensing the conversation has ventured to a sensitive place, Soonyoung clears his throat. “Shall we go, then? We’ve taken up too much of Joshua’s time, I’m afraid.”

“Right,” Jihoon mumbles, standing up and pushing his chair in.

“Oh, no,” their host says teasingly. “I apologize for intruding on your conversation. No bother to me at all, I’m just having soup. It seems like you two know each other very well.” Joshua chuckles at their bewildered faces and puts down his bowl, picking up a basket he had probably packed while they were immersed in discussion. “Here, have some lunch while you’re on your way. There’s some of my special goat butter in there, I trust you’ll enjoy it.”

Soonyoung accepts the basket with a low bow, apologizing again, and Jihoon follows suit to be polite. They bid their goodbyes quickly and depart for the waterfall, which Soonyoung had proclaimed to be the most beautiful spot in the valley.

  
  


Soonyoung is probably right. Jihoon’s house had landed right above the waterfall, but that view did no justice to its majestic billowing clouds. Standing so close to it now, the sheer volume of the water is apparent. The way light filters through the mist and paints everything around him in faint rainbows, including his “tour guide,” makes him shiver. When he glances at the other, he’s taken aback at the ebullient grin spread across his face, the lighting and ambience making him appear ethereal, almost fairy-like.

Soonyoung takes obvious pride in Jihoon’s dumbfounded awe. “Our waterfall is pretty amazing, right?” he gloats.

“Yeah,” Jihoon utters.

They’re facing the waterfall from the little arched bridge spanning the river. Waves of mist waft to their faces, leaving a sheen of the miniscule water droplets on their cheeks. 

“There’s a hollow cove behind the waterfall,” Soonyoung informs him. “But I haven’t been there in ages. It’s not inaccessible, just… very wet.”

“Wet.” Jihoon repeats, gazing at the tons of water crashing down from its lofty origin. “I see why.”

Soonyoung hits his shoulder lightly. “Don’t take that tone with me, mister,” he harrumphs.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have disrespected my tour guide,” he jokes.

“Right you are,” Soonyoung sniffs. “Anyway, I’m sorry we can’t explore the cove. I used to hide in there when I was younger. Not many people know about it.”

“Hide?”

“Ah.” He sobers. “When I was young… I took a lot of private lessons. Tutors for math and literature and all that fancy stuff. I probably should’ve just accepted it - not everyone gets a chance to have an education like that. I just couldn’t sit still.”

Jihoon hums. “I don’t blame you,” he comments lightly. “I would do the same, if I were you. In fact,” and he can’t really seem to stop himself from oversharing, despite the mounting tension in his chest, “I still can’t stay still. I’m never in the same spot, you see.”

“Right, traveling,” Soonyoung chimes in, but Jihoon shakes his head.

“It’s not so much traveling as it is incessant journeying. Let’s just say that when I say I follow my heart, I physically do.”

“What do you mean?”

Jihoon leans on the bridge’s side, stone worn smooth by fingers seeking safety. “My house… It doesn’t really like to stay still, either.” he explains cryptically.

Soonyoung cocks his head. “Huh?”

He sighs, searches for the right words. “My house is tied to my life, my heart. When my heart is restless, the house is too. So I always wake up in a new place. This morning, I arrived here. I didn’t know I’d be here, and I don’t know where I’ll be tomorrow.”

The other boy scrunches up his nose cutely. “What happens if you aren’t in the house when it moves?”

Jihoon shrugs. “It’s tied to my life. I get moved, some way or another.”

“So…” Soonyoung looks like he’s thinking very hard. “You can’t control where you want to go?”

“Nope. Not at all. I’ve never even been in the same place twice.”

“So you mean you’re never coming back here?” he asks, blinking hard, as if Jihoon would vanish right then and there. “What if you walk back here? I mean, you would, right? Come see me? I mean, us?”

He looks down at the water below. It’s dappled with orange sunlight, a beautiful reminder that the sun is on the wings of descent. “I don’t know,” is all he says, and Soonyoung is speechless. He wonders what the other is thinking, feeling. He’s probably confused. Maybe even a little disappointed. 

Jihoon glances at Soonyoung. He’s also looking down at the water, eyes clouded with gloom, lips in a full pout. His side profile is soft, backlit by sun. He really is like a prince, Jihoon thinks, in awe. His whole appearance, his aplomb, sets him apart from the rest, and his personality more so. A prince who longs to fly.

Jihoon breaks the silence. “Don’t look so glum. Were the circumstances different, we’d be the same, you know. Most people, they meet each other and never see each other again. Even if they long to. Maybe even if they do see each other again, they don’t recognize each oth-”

“I’d recognize you!” interrupts Soonyoung, his cheeks flushed, the hue augmented by the unabashed sunlight. Its rays dance on the brink of red, painting Soonyoung’s hair with crimson. “I, I’d recognize you anywhere you went. If you come back here, I’ll recognize you. I promise.”

“Soonyoung…" He trails off. "Please, I really can’t. Let’s just, let’s go in the cove. You said you haven’t been there for a long time, right? When will we ever get a better chance?”

He lowers his head, reluctant to let Jihoon change the topic. “I’ll get wet,” he mumbles.

“And you’ll dry off,” Jihoon points out. “Well, do what you want, but I’m going.” And to prove his point, he steps right off the bridge, walking directly to the waterfall, squinting once the spray gets overeager.

“Y-You don’t even know how to get there!” Soonyoung yelps, scrambling to follow him.

“Show me, then,” Jihoon calls back, taunting.

“You’re so- aggravating,” he huffs, catching up to Jihoon. He stomps right up to his side and snatches up his arm, pulling him to the cliffs. “You dumb-dumb. Coming here and telling me how to pray. Making me give you a tour. Show you the waterfall. I have never met _anyone_ -” He cuts himself off, exhales sharply. “Well then. Come here. You can climb back here, but you have to be careful.”

Soonyoung gestures to the rocks. They’re steep but offer enough footholds for Jihoon to hoist himself up, and Soonyoung follows, bunching up his robes in one hand. The water is close enough to dampen his skin and clothes, and the roar nearly drowns out Soonyoung’s guiding voice, which instructs him to step along the rocks right into the waterfall.

“Will I slip?” Jihoon asks, hesitant in the face of potential catastrophe.

“If you’re not careful,” he says nonchalantly. Then he softens. “You should be able to just walk right through, but hold on to the rock face. And please. Be careful.”

Jihoon nods, swallowing hard, getting a good look at Soonyoung’s only slightly worried face. “Well, see you on the other side,” he quips, then turns and plunges into the curtain of water.

He follows Soonyoung’s warnings and clings tight to the rock, narrowing his eyes to keep out water. Though he braces himself for it, the crash of water stuns him into a moment of shock, but he thinks of Soonyoung waiting just a few feet away, and he shuffles forward, finally breathing once he’s no longer pelted by water. He’s soaked to the skin, hair dripping in his eyes, fingers quavering with cold. His tunic is a shade darker and his cheeks home to rivulets of water, little streams that run together. Still, there’s a broad grin splitting his face, and he thinks of the blushing sun and Soonyoung, who’s on the other side demanding, “Are you over there? You’re fine, right? Hello? Jihoon? Answer me!”

“Nothing to worry about, Prince, I’m in one piece.” he yells back, his own voice dim in the wake of the waterfall. He thinks he can practically hear Soonyoung splutter.

“Move over, I’m coming,” Soonyoung shouts, so Jihoon delves further into the dark cove, careful to not trip on stray pebbles. Soonyoung emerges from the spray looking completely disheveled, his hair in strands, beautiful glimmering robes drenched through but somehow still sparkling placidly. His inner tunic and shorts cling tightly to his frame, but it only accentuates the flow of his robes. In fact, the fabric, despite definitely being soaked with water, is glowing, illuminating Soonyoung with an ethereal light. Prince indeed, Jihoon muses, studying the silvery streams of water trickling down Soonyoung’s own chin.

In the dark cave, Soonyoung is like a beacon of light. A glimpse of sun behind a natural curtain. Jihoon cannot help but gape.

“What?” Soonyoung retorts, running a hand through his hair, slicking it back out of his face. “Am I not so princely wet?”

“The opposite,” Jihoon says, voice low.

His mouth falls open. “Don’t say that,” Soonyoung says thickly. “Don’t say it if you don’t really mean it.”

“Don’t mean it?” he echoes. “How could I not mean it?”

Soonyoung steps forward. “You are awful,” he accuses, making Jihoon step backward. He steps again, and Jihoon steps again. “You are the rudest person I have ever met.” He steps boldly, slightly to the right. Jihoon matches the motion, and they turn, Soonyoung facing the waterfall, his face lit by the robes and the outside glow of near-sunset. Inside, it’s damp, and freezing. They’re both hosts of mini-waterfalls themselves. Still. “You are cruel.” They turn and turn in their clumsy dance, and Soonyoung loses count of the spirals when Jihoon does the unforgivable: he steps short, and he messes it all up. Soonyoung steps right to him, as if chests pulled by magnets, his face suddenly an inch away, Jihoon unflinching but not unyielding.

“Have you more insults to offer?” Jihoon mumbles, staring brazenly at Soonyoung’s mouth.

Soonyoung’s lips form empty words, his eyes flicking back and forth. He swallows hard, wets his lips with a dart of his tongue. “I…”

Jihoon looks up to meet Soonyoung’s eyes, his amber irises searching. “No?” he whispers, the syllable daring. When Soonyoung fails to string words together, he smirks. “Then shall I offer what I have to say?”

And finally, Soonyoung finds his voice, though just barely. “Yes,” he breathes, and that same yes is quickly swallowed up by Jihoon, who surges forward and steps not backwards but forwards, one leg between Soonyoung’s.

It’s cold, and wet. Jihoon can’t discern whether their lips are trembling from cold or anticipation. Soonyoung’s fingers tiptoe up his back, and tangle in his water-saturated hair, the cold fingertips sending a shiver down his spine. 

Jihoon pulls away but doesn’t step back. “Well?”

“Tell me,” Soonyoung says, eyes wide and glowing contently. “Tell me, why you are awful and rude and cruel and why I don’t mind at all?”

“I’ll tell you,” Jihoon says, and like he’s sharing a secret, he dips back in and kisses Soonyoung as if to warm the both of them.

  
  


As the sun descends on the horizon, Jihoon and Soonyoung slow their steps, their gradually drying clothing a point of gossip for the passerby. Passing the mountainside shrine, traversing the footpath, their conversation dwindles.

“So this is the humble Lee abode,” Soonyoung proclaims as the cottage comes into view. With the long grass swaying, framing the house, tips flaring with red sunlight, Jihoon wonders why it looks so much like the end. Like the last page in a storybook, an embossed conclusion creeping into existence. He knows the end - he’s known the end, ever since he glanced out the window, gingerly stepped on the cold floor. Despite knowing exactly how it would end, he’s dreading it. Oh, if he could reach out and suspend the sun in its tracks - if he could smooth over the page and keep rereading the words!

Jihoon nods. “Would you… Would you like to come in? Have some tea?”

“I would like that very much,” Soonyoung agrees, squinting against a surging wave of wind, which battles his hair with vigor. 

Leading the way, Jihoon savors every sensation: the muffled thump of his boots on the earth, his fingertips tickled by the strands of grass, the wind chilling his skin and blowing Soonyoung’s robes towards him. He opens the door and lets Soonyoung in, who sighs upon escaping from the wind.

“Cold outside,” Jihoon remarks unnecessarily.

“Indeed,” Soonyoung chatters, intrigued by the hearth and hesitantly approaching it. “Um, cool fire.” As he nears, the flame grows in height and brightness, a searing scarlet which seems to welcome Soonyoung’s proximity.

“Thanks.” Jihoon says. He would offer Soonyoung a change of dry clothes, but any moment now, the fire will extend its heat to every corner of the room, and their clothes will probably quickly dry. Perks of the magical fire tied to his life.

Sure enough, as Soonyoung marvels at the dancing fire, the residing dampness in their clothing withers away into a pleasant warmth. “How,” gasps the boy, turning back to stare at Jihoon in awe.

“It’s magic. Like the house,” he explains pithily. 

“It’s amazing,” sighs Soonyoung. “Is there more magic in here?” he asks, twisting around to peer curiously around the room. His gaze lingers on the gently fluttering curtains, the pretty west window framing the sunset.

Wordlessly, Jihoon closes his eyes, and the unlit candles lining his desk jump to life. Soonyoung inhales sharply, eyes sparkling with the trifling flames and his own wonder. Charmed by Soonyoung’s reaction, Jihoon blinks several times, making a kettle toddle out of the cupboard and fill itself with water, then obediently hop onto the hearth to sit in the fire. He smiles at Soonyoung’s reverent gape, makes his wooden desk chair scoot over and nudge the back of Soonyoung’s knees. A bubbly laugh escapes in his surprise, and Soonyoung sits down with a soft “oof.” Jihoon makes his bed and perches on the covers, cheeks hurting a little from his indulgent smile.

“You’re doing all this?” Soonyoung finally asks, keeping an eye on the kettle bathing in fire. In response, Jihoon makes the kettle give a little twitch, and his one-man audience claps in joy, laughing. “It’s lovely,” Soonyoung tells him earnestly. “You’re lovely.”

The fire reddens, curling inward. “It’s not my own skill,” Jihoon deflects. “It’s just ‘cause the house is tied to me.”

“So what you’re saying is that it’s all you, and that you are a lovely, wonderful person,” Soonyoung concludes firmly.

“Well, no…” he trails off, feeling embarrassed, feeling terribly vulnerable. “I could say the same of you.”

He shrugs. “To each their own,” he says simply. 

The kettle begins to whistle and Jihoon hurries over to fetch two cups. He sets them down on the counter and rummages in the cupboard for a little pot, from which he scoops a spoonful of dried chrysanthemum flowers and divides them among the two cups. He picks up the kettle and pours the water, letting the steaming stream crash into the chrysanthemums. Handing one to Soonyoung and shuffling back to the bed, he fumbles for something to say.

“I’m happy I met you, today,” Soonyoung finally says, quiet, not looking up from his teacup.

Jihoon’s stare lingers on Soonyoung before he redirects it into his own teacup. As he watches, the dried, furled up chrysanthemums shiver and bloom into ghostly plumes, infusing the water with their delicate taste. “Me too.” 

He glances up when Soonyoung pauses, catching a glimpse of the other biting his lip uncertainly. “Are you really?” Soonyoung asks hesitantly. “I mean, really, truly. Don’t be polite with me. Just tell me. I can handle it.”

Jihoon opens his mouth, then shuts it. Not because he’s doubting his answer, but because he’s unsure of how to phrase it: _I’m happy I met you too, I’m terrified I’ll never see you again, I’m wishing and wishing for things to be different._ Soonyoung seems to wilt in his silence, and Jihoon opens his mouth again in a rush. “I think,” he at last voices, “I wish this day wouldn’t end so soon.”

Soonyoung mulls this over, then tips his head back and downs his tea, swallowing and sighing, turning to look out the window. The last rays of sun are playing at the window frame, red glow fluttering in and out.

“Can I get you more tea?” Jihoon asks, awkward.

“Yes, please,” he says so timidly it sounds like a whisper.

Jihoon automatically wills the kettle over, the fire clings to the metal in petulant licks, unwilling to let go. He carefully lowers it to the cup in Soonyoung’s hands, wary of accidentally hurting him. After a tense moment, he lifts it away, and Soonyoung turns to him suddenly, as the very last, straggling beam of sunlight spills onto Soonyoung’s black hair, lighting him up from behind.

“Let me come with you,” he blurts out, words so fast they slur together.

“Pardon?”

“Let me come with you,” he repeats, more firmly.

With a loud clatter, the kettle falls to the ground, and Jihoon, flushed, scrambles down to scoop it up and set it down safely, grabbing a towel to wipe up the spilled water. “What are you talking about?” he mumbles.

Soonyoung stands up, practically towers over Jihoon, who’s squatted on the ground. “I want to stay with you. Travel with you. Don’t leave me behind, Jihoon, you can’t. You just can’t,” he implores, eyes reflecting fire.

“I… I don’t know,” he gets out, feeling floored. When he peers up at Soonyoung, red light hugs him in an angelic flame, like Soonyoung is standing in fire but is impervious to its burn. He’s beautiful.

“You said you wished this day wouldn’t end just yet,” Soonyoung tells him, voice almost imperceptibly wavering. “You like me. You kissed me. You can’t…”

He does like him. He did kiss him. He’d kiss him again, given the chance. But could he whisk Soonyoung away from his home, possibly forever, knowing his selfish wishes would leave a gaping hole in their society here? 

“You do like me, right?” 

Jihoon tilts his chin up, stares at Soonyoung, who fills his field of vision. “I do,” he affirms. “Of course I do. How could anyone meet you and not fall in love?”

Soonyoung gasps. The hollow sound rakes through the cottage, vacuum-like; Jihoon feels like surrendering to the suction. “Then,” warbles Soonyoung, “how could you possibly choose to leave me here?” There might be tears dampening Soonyoung’s flame-crested gaze. Jihoon doesn’t know. It’s hard to see anything other than red, red, red Soonyoung, the sun embodied, flame so easily loved.

It’s precisely because he loves him, Jihoon thinks. In love, he is selfish, not only for himself but also for his love. He aches with his whole body to pull Soonyoung in and never leave that inferno, and yet. 

“I’m staying with you,” Soonyoung asserts, after Jihoon doesn’t respond. “Say what you want. Hate me if you want. I’m staying. I can’t leave. I… I love - I love you, Jihoon. I really do. I’ve never been in love, but I think, I think this is what love is. Seeing you kneeling before me and only wanting to scoop you up and kiss your stupid face and stay with you. I’m going to do all those three things,” he fumes, “But most importantly, the last. I’m staying.”

A weak protest. “Soonyoung…”

“Unless you have something to say, I will now be going through that list,” Soonyoung informs him matter-of-factly, despite the tears brewing in his eyes. Jihoon shakes his head, a pitiful dismissal of himself more than anything else, and Soonyoung leans down, arms coming to curl around the base of his neck and fingers resting in his hair. Jihoon feels a kiss pressed to his hair and the sudden tap of the faucet leaking mirrors his own eyes brimming with hot liquid.

“I really like you, Jihoon.” Soonyoung kisses his ear. “I really do.”

Jihoon makes to stand up, and Soonyoung helps him up. He nearly trips on the kettle still by his feet, and he levitates it, returning it to the hearth, where the fire embraces it in warmth again. And, night upon them, the curtains freeing themselves to settle closed, Jihoon leans in to kiss Soonyoung. Stars burn in his chest, and he feels like he’s tumbled headfirst into the sun. “I love you,” he says into the kiss, and he relishes the way Soonyoung turns red under his hands, his mouth. 

Just as sunrise approaches, the cottage comes into view, its two inhabitants softly snoring away in the single room. The fireplace flickers with a magical fire sustained by an unseen fuel, and as the sky warms to a lucid green-blue one young man wakes from his slumber. He yawns and smiles sleepily at the warm body bracketing his own before glancing out the window and realizing his surroundings haven’t changed. Blinking away his grogginess with a fearful hopefulness swelling in his chest, he slips out of bed and peers out the window left and right, awed by the sight of the unrelenting waterfall and the tranquil valley devoid of motion below.

He feels around the bed for his shirt and puts it on, and as he moves, the remaining lump on the bed shifts, groaning. Soonyoung’s hair sticks out everywhere and he smacks his lips as he sits up, a shudder running up his back when he realizes Jihoon is fondly watching him. 

“Where are we?” Soonyoung asks. 

“Why don’t you get dressed and come see,” Jihoon tells him cryptically, and Soonyoung furrows his eyebrows but gets up anyhow. He redresses in his clothes from yesterday, casting a wistful look at the outer robes with their characteristic opal sheen. Jihoon gestures with his chin for him to put it on, and, confused, Soonyoung obeys.

“Did you brush your teeth?” Soonyoung asks absently as they step out of the cottage. “I wanna kiss you.”

Jihoon laughs. “Not yet,” he replies. “But c’mon, just take a look outside.”

Soonyoung pouts but follows him into the grass, and as the sun floats into the foggy sky, Jihoon hears the other roughly gulp for air. “Well?” Jihoon prompts, grinning.

Soonyoung bats at his arm. “Don’t smile like that! Did you know this would happen?”

“No,” admits Jihoon, smile faltering. “I had no idea. I thought we’d end up somewhere obscure, to be honest.”

“But how,” Soonyoung marvels, bending down to drag his fingers through the grass. “Is it dumb if I say I missed it here after just one night of believing I’d never see it again?”

Jihoon shakes his head, squatting down to Soonyoung’s level. They’re close; Soonyoung leans forward and presses their foreheads together. “You’re happy?” Jihoon asks.

“Really,” Soonyoung tells him, and as Jihoon watches a broad grin bloom, it dawns on him, and he sucks in a breath.

“I think I get it,” Jihoon says excitedly. “I think I know how it happened.”

“Enlighten me, please.”

Jihoon’s hand comes up to cup Soonyoung’s jaw. “It’s you,” he says tenderly, voice gentle and enveloping them in a world of their own. “It’s all you. God, I love you.”

Soonyoung blushes. “Don’t flatter me, just tell me what happened.”

“I told you the house is linked to me, right,” Jihoon explains. “Everything, from the furniture inside to the foundation it’s built on.”

“Right,” he says, impatient.

“Well,” he concludes, “I’m in love with you.”

Soonyoung huffs a sigh. “You’re not making any sense.”

“I love you,” Jihoon repeats emphatically, as if it would help. “Don’t you see? I love you. I want you to be happy, at any costs. My heart is tied to yours, now.”

The pieces come together. “And this village is mine,” Soonyoung says slowly. “You love me - I belong here - so you-”

“Yes,” Jihoon interrupts, eyes lit up. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be. Here, by your side. That’s it. God, what a revelation!”

Soonyoung smiles sweetly at him. “Let’s go back inside,” he says.

“What?”

“We need to brush our teeth, like immediately.”

**Author's Note:**

> setting inspired by the legend of zelda: breath of the wild, particularly kakariko village; plot influenced by howl's moving castle  
> this wasn't intended to be a full-fledged fic... it was mostly practice for world building/setting but of course i shoved howoo into it what did you expect  
> thank you for reading<3 kudos+comments appreciated !! validate my prince hoshi agenda please thx
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/moonjunseyo)


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